Villain of the Piece by Geonn Cannon

Author:Geonn Cannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2022-11-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Over the course of the day, Catriona confirmed that Krikor Ohanian was a big fish in a tiny pond. He was able to rule through fear because he was the biggest threat these people had ever dealt with. She quickly determined, just from following his troops and looking up articles online, that he wasn’t even the scariest person in Seattle. It was a little ridiculous how much power he’d been allowed to accumulate. He didn’t deserve an entire neighborhood.

Her original plan was to follow Bridgeman on his rounds, make sure he didn’t set any more fires, and rob him at the end of the night. He didn’t even have any backup this time, so she hadn’t foreseen any problems with taking him out again.

She didn’t know what had happened in the Whipjack, but she knew Reena wasn’t hotheaded or impulsive enough to attack him without provocation. It ruined her plan but she could improvise.

Catriona glanced in the rearview mirror. Bridgeman was still painted in the corner of the backseat, hands resting in his lap, head turned toward the window. Something was broken in his nose; she could hear the whistle on every exhale even above the engine of her stolen car. Every now and then he made a pathetic whimpering noise and rolled his head from side to side. She’d patted him down before driving away to take away any of his weapons, but she doubted he had the ability to attack even if she’d given him a shotgun.

She parked in front of Ohanian’s headquarters. The lobby was half-lit, and the security desk was vacant. It wasn’t luck; she’d passed through the lobby that afternoon and seen the computers weren’t hooked up and there were no phones. Ohanian was either too cheap to pay for security or he believed he was untouchable. Odds were the answer was a little of both.

Bridgeman flinched when Catriona opened the back door and climbed onto the seat next to him. He didn’t move his head but turned his eyes to watch her.

“You’re the one who attacked us on the bridge, aren’t you?”

Catriona reached up and pressed her hand over his mouth. Her fingers on one cheek and the heel of her hand on the other, she squeezed tight enough to keep his jaw from moving. Bridgeman twisted and kicked at her, but she shifted her weight and planted a knee on his legs, pinning them down as she pinched his broken nose with her other hand. Her palm muffled his wail of pain as she squeezed the broken bone, and she felt blood pouring, but she didn’t loosen her grip.

People think it’s hard to kill someone. Catriona always thought it was far too easy. A slip on the stairs, a head injury, looking the wrong way when crossing the street.

Cutting off someone’s air for a few minutes did the trick nicely. The fact humans only had two ways to draw in air, and both were a hand-span away from each other, seemed like the most egregious of design flaws in a body full of them.

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